"Avoidance of things" for Evilhippo
.
From: Keenir.
To: Evilhippo.
Request: Angst, Drama, Fluff, Humour, Hurt/Comfort. Anything you want to write is cool with me, so long as it doesn’t require bending the characterization too far to make it work. I would love to get some minor character fic. Mycroft, Mrs. Hudson, Anderson, Donovan…Make the story’s universe just that little bit bigger. A little slice of life, a behind-the-visible-story adventure… whatever works for you.
Title: Avoidance Of Things.
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Sally Donovan knows Irene Adler, and may be about to solve what she's up to.
Pairing/s: none in the fic. Maybe an allusion to one.
Warnings: Coda to the third episode of the first series of Sherlock. Reference to A Scandal in Bohemia.
Characters: Sergeant Sally Donovan, Irene Adler, Detective Inspector Lestrade, Dr. John Watson.
Note: when we see her onscreen, Sally’s prickly around Holmes, but she does seem to try to help Watson.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Lestrade answered the phone.
“Apologies for the late call, Detective Inspector, but you should know.”
“What should I know?” Lestrade asked, here in his office in Scotland Yard.
“Holmes is safe. As is Moriarty.”
“Where are they?” he asked, not at all surprised that Sherlock had gone after Moriarty without backup.
Lestrade could hear the smile in the words, “I gave them a challenge. A wager, some would still call it.”
“You made a bet with Sherlock Holmes?” Lestrade asked.
“Gladly,” she said. “Have you forgotten me, Detective Inspector? My congratulations on the promotion, by the way.”
“No, Miss Adler, I haven’t.”
“Good,” Irene said, and hung up.
After hanging up, Lestrade had the techs see if they could backtrace where the call had come from - he knew the wouldn’t, but the attempt had to be made - and then he called Sergeant Donovan to his office.
“You know her best,” Lestrade said, which was an overstatement. “Find her. Find out what she’s up to.”
“And the Freak?”
“Best case, worst case, Donovan,” Lestrade said. “I’ll handle that end; you see what Adler’s done.
*.*.*
“Sergeant Donovan,” Watson said, rising from his chair when she returned to 221b Baker Street. “This is a surprise. Where’s Inspector Lestrade?”
“He’s busy on another case,” she said. “I’m handling the kidnapping.”
“Kidnapping? Oh, of Holmes and Moriarty.”
“There another kidnapping I should be aware of, doctor?”
“No,” Watson said. “Its more a reflection of how I’m sometimes the last person Sherlock tells the full story to. He thinks it helps think more clearly - focusing on ‘the pertinent details.’”
“Sounds like him,” Donovan agreed.
“So, have a seat. Ask whatever you need to ask. I’ve been over it time and again, but I hope you can find something in it I’ve missed.”
“Thank you,” Sally said. “What case have you been working on, now that Sherlock’s gone?” If I asked ‘what have you been doing since then?’ he could avoid the question without really lying.
Watson looked at her. “Is this your way of saying even I wanted him gone?”
“No.”
“Then I don’t see how its relevant,” Watson said, though he was relieved he wasn’t a suspect.
“We’re pursuing all lines of inquiry,” Sgt. Donovan said. “So, doctor, care to answer?”
“I was tailing a paparazzi, if you must know.”
“His name?”
“Geoffrey Norton. And I’ll save you the trouble - yes, he’s the brother of Godfrey Norton.” The ambulance-chaser. Watson thought.
Donovan thought, The lawyer who loves to be in court almost as much as he loves being in the papers. “And did you find anything out?”
“Just their favorite pubs, bars, and corner diners.”
“I’m going to need a copy of that list, doctor.”
Watson nodded. “And Holmes? Do you know anything of his whereabouts?”
“We have a few suspects,” Sally said. “Have you ever heard of a woman by the name of Irene Adler?”
John paused. He considered that question. “There was a Dr. Adler in Afghanistan. American. A good interpreter, by all accounts.” John searched his mind a bit more. “No, that’s it, I’m afraid.”
“That’ll do,” Sgt. Donovan said.
Wait, I haven‘t gone over the events of last evening at the pool, John thought. “Are you hungry?” Watson asked when he noticed she was about to stand up. “I’m sure Mrs. Hudson wouldn’t mind fixing one more plate for lunch.”
“I have to go.”
*.*.*
On a hunch, Sally checked the Marriages section of the newspaper’s online archives. And there it was: Yasmin Irene Kee married Godwin Norton during his tour in Afghanistan, and he was shipped back to Birmingham with his new bride shortly thereafter. By all accounts - few - the wedding was rushed.
Not long in the wake of that, Dr. John Watson was invalided home. Curiouser and curioser.
*.*.*
Sally is on her way to a particular cemetery on the outskirts of London to lay flowers on her mother’s grave. Another anniversary of her dead. I won’t be there when dad and my brothers stop by, but at least this year I’m not going to avoid her Sally thinks as she waits for traffic to start up again.
Lestrade had told her to take as long a lunch as she needs, the day if necessary. He knows the significance of today.
She sees a sign and can’t stop a grin. The sign is a picture with a diagonal line across it - society agrees upon what it means. To part company with everything but logic, she knows, is to invite madness. I know this. Lestrade, Anderson, Watson, and anybody on the street, we all know this. Surely Holmes, deep down, knows it too. The programming language required to switch between mass textings and a private e-message, that is only complex next to the K THNX BAI of teenspeak. How can someone capable of texting a room of reporters and police, not know how the Earth works? Has the man never seen his own shadow?
Sally entertains herself with thoughts of Sherlock terrified of his shadow.
*.*.*
Sally was walking to her car when she was told, “Hello there, Sergeant.”
She turned and looked at the young woman. “Irene Adler.”
“In the flesh. And you’re not remotely surprised to see me.”
“You called Lestrade,” Sally said. “You tend to show up less than a day after calling.” You started that only after I caught you. After you escaped, too.
Irene considered this, then granted that with a slight nod. “A weakness, I know.”
“And the pair of them? Holmes and Moriarty?”
“I have them,” Irene said. “They’re safe.”
“They’re dangerous,” Sally said.
“That is not in dispute,” she agreed. “But their sense of face won’t let them lose the bet.”
“You made a bet?” Lestrade told me as much, but I still don’t believe it.
Adler nodded.
You are off your rocker. “What kind of bet can you make with those two?” she asked.
“The kind that matters, Sergeant,” Irene said.
“They leave the country if they lose?”
Irene tsked. “That’s no punishment for either of them. No, if they lose, they’ll live average, humdrum lives.”
“Now that’s punishment,” Sally said, relishing the mental image of Sherlock punching a clock. “And Watson?”
“Hrmm?”
“What about Watson?
“Sergeant?”
“I know that, besides being Irene Adler, you’ve also used the names Amelia and Violet Hunter, Ingmar Benny, Maud Bellamy, Yasmin Kee, and I’m pretty sure Rachel Howell was you too.” If Holmes ever comes back, we should see if he can figure out who you are. Maybe he’ll do that anyway, now. “And I have a feeling you’re also Molly -”
“Not me. I met Rachel Howell, though. She could be a bit impish. One hopes she’s matured since then.”
“And how much of you does Dr. Watson know?” Sally asked.
“John knows more than most, Sergeant. Only you, I, and Inspector Lestrade know me better.”
“Then why couldn’t anyone find him before 11 this morning?”
Irene smiled. “I asked him if he would help me on a case I’m working now. Asked, not coerced. The difference is important to me.”
I imagine so. “You asked.” Probably confused the hell out of him.
“Yes.”
“Holmes doesn’t ask. Just assumes.” Sally had learned early on that, whoever else Adler thought of him, she took offense to him being called ‘the Freak.’
“That did help,” Irene admitted. “And here we are. I’ll ask you to wait out here for me, Sergeant Donovan. Unless you think flashing your badge will help us in there.”
“Don’t run,” Sally warned.
“What reason do I have to run?”
“I know more than I did.”
Irene smiled. “That’s good. Not so much a cause for alarm.”
Donovan let Adler cross the street alone, knowing she was going into one of the few buildings in Greater London that had no back or side entrances.
*
Five minutes later, her phone rang. “Donovan,” she answered.
“I will ask you for patience,” Irene said.
“Where are you?”
“I am not double-crossing you. That would be tiresome and plotless. And you would work to catch me.”
“Too right.” Sally said, “You’ve got a plan.”
“I always have a plan of one stripe or another.”
“What sort of a plan is this?” Sally asked. “One with spy craft, secrets and pronouncements?” and heard Adler wince at that last word. “Rube Goldberg, then?”
“Lovecraftian,” Irene said. “Not necessarily any more or less complex, but -”
“But it needs the stars to be right.”
“Exactly. Patience at all times,” she said. “For us both.”
Sally could hear how tired Adler was. Though there was always the chance it was faked, there was also a chance it was genuine.
*.*.*
When Sally sat down at her desk that evening, she noticed something in her Inbox flagged as urgent.
Opening the email, she saw that she was a BCC recipient.
In the world of email, a CC was a copy of the message which the Send To recipients could see. A BCC, on the other hand, could see the Send To and the CC recipients, but they were unaware of the BCC.
The message read
‘Mr.s Norton, your attempt has failed and I advise you to leave it at that. Thus far, only the three of us know of your attempt to besmirch the young Prince and his fiancée. I am sending you in this email a copy of all the evidence I have gathered - the originals are naturally safe as my insurance. Should you press on, in this or other affairs, I shall release knowledge of your actions, resulting in disbarment for you, and imprisonment for both of you.
‘My discretion is assured, for as long as you comply.’
*.*.*
When they visited 221B Baker Street shortly after receiving that email, Donovan and Lestrade found Mycroft Holmes sitting with Watson.
“This is splendid news,” Mycroft said when Lestrade had said as much as he was going to. “As I was saying to John here, we’ve found Moriarty bound to flotation devices in the middle of the Reichenbach Aquatics Center.”
“And Sherlock?” Lestrade asked.
“Not where we were led to believe,” Mycroft said. “Which leads me to suspect that, either my brother is now being dramatic again, or he is not yet done.”
“Any way to know?” Sally asked.
“As yet, no. But we are listening. And looking very carefully.”
“And observing?” Watson asked.
“Why wouldn’t we, doctor Watson?” Sally asked.
Watson shrugged.
“Clearly too much time in the company of my brother,” Mycroft said and smiled at that. “Back to work, then.”
*
As they left 221B Baker Street, Lestrade looked at Sally and asked her, “What are you thinking, Sergeant?”
“I think, sir,” Sally said. “I think that, whatever else happens, any of his jobs, with the Freak or Moriarty, if Adler runs or stays… To John Watson, she will always be The Woman.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The End
From: Keenir.
To: Evilhippo.
Request: Angst, Drama, Fluff, Humour, Hurt/Comfort. Anything you want to write is cool with me, so long as it doesn’t require bending the characterization too far to make it work. I would love to get some minor character fic. Mycroft, Mrs. Hudson, Anderson, Donovan…Make the story’s universe just that little bit bigger. A little slice of life, a behind-the-visible-story adventure… whatever works for you.
Title: Avoidance Of Things.
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Sally Donovan knows Irene Adler, and may be about to solve what she's up to.
Pairing/s: none in the fic. Maybe an allusion to one.
Warnings: Coda to the third episode of the first series of Sherlock. Reference to A Scandal in Bohemia.
Characters: Sergeant Sally Donovan, Irene Adler, Detective Inspector Lestrade, Dr. John Watson.
Note: when we see her onscreen, Sally’s prickly around Holmes, but she does seem to try to help Watson.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Lestrade answered the phone.
“Apologies for the late call, Detective Inspector, but you should know.”
“What should I know?” Lestrade asked, here in his office in Scotland Yard.
“Holmes is safe. As is Moriarty.”
“Where are they?” he asked, not at all surprised that Sherlock had gone after Moriarty without backup.
Lestrade could hear the smile in the words, “I gave them a challenge. A wager, some would still call it.”
“You made a bet with Sherlock Holmes?” Lestrade asked.
“Gladly,” she said. “Have you forgotten me, Detective Inspector? My congratulations on the promotion, by the way.”
“No, Miss Adler, I haven’t.”
“Good,” Irene said, and hung up.
After hanging up, Lestrade had the techs see if they could backtrace where the call had come from - he knew the wouldn’t, but the attempt had to be made - and then he called Sergeant Donovan to his office.
“You know her best,” Lestrade said, which was an overstatement. “Find her. Find out what she’s up to.”
“And the Freak?”
“Best case, worst case, Donovan,” Lestrade said. “I’ll handle that end; you see what Adler’s done.
*.*.*
“Sergeant Donovan,” Watson said, rising from his chair when she returned to 221b Baker Street. “This is a surprise. Where’s Inspector Lestrade?”
“He’s busy on another case,” she said. “I’m handling the kidnapping.”
“Kidnapping? Oh, of Holmes and Moriarty.”
“There another kidnapping I should be aware of, doctor?”
“No,” Watson said. “Its more a reflection of how I’m sometimes the last person Sherlock tells the full story to. He thinks it helps think more clearly - focusing on ‘the pertinent details.’”
“Sounds like him,” Donovan agreed.
“So, have a seat. Ask whatever you need to ask. I’ve been over it time and again, but I hope you can find something in it I’ve missed.”
“Thank you,” Sally said. “What case have you been working on, now that Sherlock’s gone?” If I asked ‘what have you been doing since then?’ he could avoid the question without really lying.
Watson looked at her. “Is this your way of saying even I wanted him gone?”
“No.”
“Then I don’t see how its relevant,” Watson said, though he was relieved he wasn’t a suspect.
“We’re pursuing all lines of inquiry,” Sgt. Donovan said. “So, doctor, care to answer?”
“I was tailing a paparazzi, if you must know.”
“His name?”
“Geoffrey Norton. And I’ll save you the trouble - yes, he’s the brother of Godfrey Norton.” The ambulance-chaser. Watson thought.
Donovan thought, The lawyer who loves to be in court almost as much as he loves being in the papers. “And did you find anything out?”
“Just their favorite pubs, bars, and corner diners.”
“I’m going to need a copy of that list, doctor.”
Watson nodded. “And Holmes? Do you know anything of his whereabouts?”
“We have a few suspects,” Sally said. “Have you ever heard of a woman by the name of Irene Adler?”
John paused. He considered that question. “There was a Dr. Adler in Afghanistan. American. A good interpreter, by all accounts.” John searched his mind a bit more. “No, that’s it, I’m afraid.”
“That’ll do,” Sgt. Donovan said.
Wait, I haven‘t gone over the events of last evening at the pool, John thought. “Are you hungry?” Watson asked when he noticed she was about to stand up. “I’m sure Mrs. Hudson wouldn’t mind fixing one more plate for lunch.”
“I have to go.”
*.*.*
On a hunch, Sally checked the Marriages section of the newspaper’s online archives. And there it was: Yasmin Irene Kee married Godwin Norton during his tour in Afghanistan, and he was shipped back to Birmingham with his new bride shortly thereafter. By all accounts - few - the wedding was rushed.
Not long in the wake of that, Dr. John Watson was invalided home. Curiouser and curioser.
*.*.*
Sally is on her way to a particular cemetery on the outskirts of London to lay flowers on her mother’s grave. Another anniversary of her dead. I won’t be there when dad and my brothers stop by, but at least this year I’m not going to avoid her Sally thinks as she waits for traffic to start up again.
Lestrade had told her to take as long a lunch as she needs, the day if necessary. He knows the significance of today.
She sees a sign and can’t stop a grin. The sign is a picture with a diagonal line across it - society agrees upon what it means. To part company with everything but logic, she knows, is to invite madness. I know this. Lestrade, Anderson, Watson, and anybody on the street, we all know this. Surely Holmes, deep down, knows it too. The programming language required to switch between mass textings and a private e-message, that is only complex next to the K THNX BAI of teenspeak. How can someone capable of texting a room of reporters and police, not know how the Earth works? Has the man never seen his own shadow?
Sally entertains herself with thoughts of Sherlock terrified of his shadow.
*.*.*
Sally was walking to her car when she was told, “Hello there, Sergeant.”
She turned and looked at the young woman. “Irene Adler.”
“In the flesh. And you’re not remotely surprised to see me.”
“You called Lestrade,” Sally said. “You tend to show up less than a day after calling.” You started that only after I caught you. After you escaped, too.
Irene considered this, then granted that with a slight nod. “A weakness, I know.”
“And the pair of them? Holmes and Moriarty?”
“I have them,” Irene said. “They’re safe.”
“They’re dangerous,” Sally said.
“That is not in dispute,” she agreed. “But their sense of face won’t let them lose the bet.”
“You made a bet?” Lestrade told me as much, but I still don’t believe it.
Adler nodded.
You are off your rocker. “What kind of bet can you make with those two?” she asked.
“The kind that matters, Sergeant,” Irene said.
“They leave the country if they lose?”
Irene tsked. “That’s no punishment for either of them. No, if they lose, they’ll live average, humdrum lives.”
“Now that’s punishment,” Sally said, relishing the mental image of Sherlock punching a clock. “And Watson?”
“Hrmm?”
“What about Watson?
“Sergeant?”
“I know that, besides being Irene Adler, you’ve also used the names Amelia and Violet Hunter, Ingmar Benny, Maud Bellamy, Yasmin Kee, and I’m pretty sure Rachel Howell was you too.” If Holmes ever comes back, we should see if he can figure out who you are. Maybe he’ll do that anyway, now. “And I have a feeling you’re also Molly -”
“Not me. I met Rachel Howell, though. She could be a bit impish. One hopes she’s matured since then.”
“And how much of you does Dr. Watson know?” Sally asked.
“John knows more than most, Sergeant. Only you, I, and Inspector Lestrade know me better.”
“Then why couldn’t anyone find him before 11 this morning?”
Irene smiled. “I asked him if he would help me on a case I’m working now. Asked, not coerced. The difference is important to me.”
I imagine so. “You asked.” Probably confused the hell out of him.
“Yes.”
“Holmes doesn’t ask. Just assumes.” Sally had learned early on that, whoever else Adler thought of him, she took offense to him being called ‘the Freak.’
“That did help,” Irene admitted. “And here we are. I’ll ask you to wait out here for me, Sergeant Donovan. Unless you think flashing your badge will help us in there.”
“Don’t run,” Sally warned.
“What reason do I have to run?”
“I know more than I did.”
Irene smiled. “That’s good. Not so much a cause for alarm.”
Donovan let Adler cross the street alone, knowing she was going into one of the few buildings in Greater London that had no back or side entrances.
*
Five minutes later, her phone rang. “Donovan,” she answered.
“I will ask you for patience,” Irene said.
“Where are you?”
“I am not double-crossing you. That would be tiresome and plotless. And you would work to catch me.”
“Too right.” Sally said, “You’ve got a plan.”
“I always have a plan of one stripe or another.”
“What sort of a plan is this?” Sally asked. “One with spy craft, secrets and pronouncements?” and heard Adler wince at that last word. “Rube Goldberg, then?”
“Lovecraftian,” Irene said. “Not necessarily any more or less complex, but -”
“But it needs the stars to be right.”
“Exactly. Patience at all times,” she said. “For us both.”
Sally could hear how tired Adler was. Though there was always the chance it was faked, there was also a chance it was genuine.
*.*.*
When Sally sat down at her desk that evening, she noticed something in her Inbox flagged as urgent.
Opening the email, she saw that she was a BCC recipient.
In the world of email, a CC was a copy of the message which the Send To recipients could see. A BCC, on the other hand, could see the Send To and the CC recipients, but they were unaware of the BCC.
The message read
‘Mr.s Norton, your attempt has failed and I advise you to leave it at that. Thus far, only the three of us know of your attempt to besmirch the young Prince and his fiancée. I am sending you in this email a copy of all the evidence I have gathered - the originals are naturally safe as my insurance. Should you press on, in this or other affairs, I shall release knowledge of your actions, resulting in disbarment for you, and imprisonment for both of you.
‘My discretion is assured, for as long as you comply.’
*.*.*
When they visited 221B Baker Street shortly after receiving that email, Donovan and Lestrade found Mycroft Holmes sitting with Watson.
“This is splendid news,” Mycroft said when Lestrade had said as much as he was going to. “As I was saying to John here, we’ve found Moriarty bound to flotation devices in the middle of the Reichenbach Aquatics Center.”
“And Sherlock?” Lestrade asked.
“Not where we were led to believe,” Mycroft said. “Which leads me to suspect that, either my brother is now being dramatic again, or he is not yet done.”
“Any way to know?” Sally asked.
“As yet, no. But we are listening. And looking very carefully.”
“And observing?” Watson asked.
“Why wouldn’t we, doctor Watson?” Sally asked.
Watson shrugged.
“Clearly too much time in the company of my brother,” Mycroft said and smiled at that. “Back to work, then.”
*
As they left 221B Baker Street, Lestrade looked at Sally and asked her, “What are you thinking, Sergeant?”
“I think, sir,” Sally said. “I think that, whatever else happens, any of his jobs, with the Freak or Moriarty, if Adler runs or stays… To John Watson, she will always be The Woman.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The End